


One of these days

by El Staplador (elstaplador)



Category: The Comfortable Courtesan - Madame C- C-
Genre: Community: ladiesbingo, Epistolary, F/F, Narrowly averted infidelity, Picturesque rural seclusion, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 17:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12822378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/pseuds/El%20Staplador
Summary: Em is home from another house party, with another story to tell of another idol with feet of clay. Lalage is glad to have her back, but has heard enough of Em's infatuations.





	One of these days

**Author's Note:**

> For the Ladiesbingo prompt 'day-in-the-life'

_Letter from Lady Emily Merrett to her sister, the Marchioness of Offgrange_

Attervale, 23 August 18-

Dearest Nan -

As you will see, I am home with Lalage and much the better for it. You and Tony must think me sadly uncivil to dash off in that manner, and I blush for the fibs you must have had to tell your other guests on my account, but really I could not stay another moment under the same roof as Amelia Dorney.

How disagreeable she is! I don't think I can call her Honourable at all. Do you really believe that Geoff will marry her? I shall never speak to him again if he proposes.

Do send my love to Tony and to Mama. Lalage sends hers, too. She is well and is, as ever, the dearest creature in the world.

Your loving sister,

Emily

*

_Extract from the diary of Lalage Fenster, Attervale, 23 August 18-_

Butcher's bill - 15s 6d. N.B. Ask about the goose

The black hen has hatched out nine chicks; two eggs failed.

N.B. Speak to Mrs Perrett about the milk. Mr Bailey to come about the dovecote on Thursday.

Em home from Monk's Garrowby this afternoon, a full week earlier than I expected her. Rather out of sorts. No doubt there will be a confession... One might almost set one's watch by these little episodes. I could wish her to grow out of this impulsiveness, and yet I would not have her alter her sweet, generous nature, so ready to believe the best of the most impossible people. Or would I? She hurts herself as much as she hurts me.

Enough. If it can be helped, I don't know how. She comes back to me.

*

They retired early to bed. 'You must be tired,' Lalage said, and Emily did not disagree, just followed her meekly up the stairs.

The bedroom door closed, Lalage turned to her and smiled. 'Happy to be home?'

Em returned her smile, a little timidly. 'Very.'

'Good.'

'I never did like Monk's Garrowby,' Em said. She grew grave. 'Besides, you're here. You're always here.'

'Why, of course. Where else should I be?' Lalage laughed. She held out her arms to Em, who took one hesitant step forward, then another, until she was close enough for Lalage to catch her by the wrists and draw her closer still.

Em hid her face in Lalage's shoulder. 'It's more than I deserve, to find you waiting for me every time.'

This was familiar – too familiar, Lalage thought. It was at this moment that she would usually say, Tell me about her, and Em would relay the whole sorry tale. It would vary in particulars and in degrees, but never in its general themes. Lalage found that tonight she had no desire to hear it. Instead, she said, 'Perhaps it is. And yet here I am.' She gently turned Em around and started taking the pins out of her hair.

Em bent her head forward obediently. 'You're never surprised.'

Lalage pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'I could be, if only you'd do something to surprise me.'

A sigh. 'I thought she was different. But she wasn't. She was after Geoff.'

'Your brother can look after himself.' She combed through the long hair with her fingers, then swept it to one side to unfasten Em's dress. 'You, on the other hand, break your own heart – and mine – every other month.'

'It's not quite as often as that,' Em protested ruefully. She stepped out of her dress. 'Come, let me do yours.'

It was easier to say when her face was turned away so that Em could not see it. 'Dearest, I don't mind your admiring them, but must you chase them?' She was silent a moment, trying to guess from the strained quality of Em's breath and the way her quick fingers were moving down the line of buttons what her expression might be. 'If I were to run, would you chase me?'

Em caught her suddenly around the waist and held her tightly. 'Don't run. Please.'

Lalage leaned back into her, tilting her head upwards so that she could almost see her. 'Very well. I won't run – _this_ time.'

'There won't be a next time,' Em said, and spun Lalage back around to face her.

Perhaps there would not be a next time. Perhaps, if there was a next time, Em wouldn't chase. Perhaps, if Em did chase, Lalage would run. Perhaps, if Lalage ran, Em would chase. Perhaps, if Em chased...

Next time, it would be different. What that difference might be, Lalage could not know, and did not much care, in Em's arms once more and kissing her as nobody else could.

The kiss was not a promise on either side. It was only a kiss, though it swiftly became more; but even as it became more it was still not a promise. Of the two of them, Em was the only one given to making promises that she couldn't keep. As to whether Lalage would follow through on a threat she'd just made for the first time, well, that was another question, for another day, and if they never had to find out the answer, well, so much the better.


End file.
